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- Written by: Don Goulding
Therefore, so that I would not become arrogant, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to trouble me - so that I would not become arrogant. I asked the Lord three times about this, that it would depart from me. But he said to me, “My grace is enough for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:7-9)
I have a gorilla on my back. I can never turn far enough to see it, but I stagger under its weight. Primal grunts come from behind, and people give me strange looks. They must be shocked at the size of my gorilla.
My ape is noisy and rude. Everywhere I go, he interrupts with inappropriate habits and offensive banter. He is to blame for the temptations in my life, my ailing body, and soured relationships.
My gorilla whispers dark thoughts and tricks me into thinking they are my own. Depression, anger, apathy—he has a long repertoire of weedy ideas to plant.
I slap my back, but my gorilla only laughs and digs in. Try as I may, I can’t shake off this exhausting weight.
I asked Jesus to get rid of the beast, to lift it from my back and set me free. He said no, because I don’t hold his hand tightly when there’s no gorilla. He would do anything to ensure I never let go of his hand. He even allows the hated ape on my back.
If Jesus said this is the way it is, then that’s how it will stay. I have to keep the gorilla until I die. So I’ll cling to the hand of Jesus and ask him to correct each whisper from my gorilla. There will be a lot of hand-squeezing and much correcting.
Prayer: Be close, Jesus, and help me with the weight of my temptations.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
But now, ask the animals and they will teach you, or the birds of the sky and they will tell you. Or speak to the earth and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea declare to you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this … (Job 12:7-9)
Clouds heaped themselves into billows, round on top, flat and gray on the bottom, with a tasteful hint of orange worn low on their hips. Standing apart, they populated the sky, shrinking to the horizon. Beyond their aesthetic beauty, each cloud was a scientific marvel of liquid particle suspension and solar light refraction. Whether humans took notice or not, they broadcast the glory of their Creator God.
Snow-white seagulls rode the breeze above a scalloped ocean. They wheeled about, stabbing yellow beaks into the wind. Their wingtips banked left, then corrected right. Each gull followed its whims but stayed inside the boundaries of the gathered flock.
Clouds, gulls, stars, dolphins—everything in our universe declares the majesty of Jehovah God because that’s the purpose of its existence.
Humanity is different. Created in God’s image, we are bequeathed with the freedom of choice. We can choose to glorify God with our lives, or not. If I want to disregard the biblical standards for life and hurt others when it pleases me, I can. The primary consequences of my actions are deferred until the next era.
The game is on, and the clock is ticking. I’m given a limited number of years to see what I’ll do with the divine gift of choice. One day, the tally will be totaled, and recompense will arrive. For now, there is an excellent opportunity to stand with the rest of creation as it shouts the glory of God.
Prayer: My blessed Creator, I join the animals, birds, and fish to praise you.
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- Written by: Don Goulding
When they placed their threshold by my threshold and their doorpost by my doorpost, with only the wall between me and them, they profaned my holy name by the abominable deeds they committed. (Ezekiel 43:8)
Dani and I once lived next to furloughed missionaries with a doorway connecting our apartments. Residing adjacent to them made us self-conscious of playing loud music, the clutter we left out, and our conversations near the thin door.
The Bible says we are the new temple of God. That means his Most Holy Place is inside me, just over the threshold from the Holy Place of my mind. It makes me think twice about the garbage I permit into my thoughts.
In the days of the physical temple, the Holy Place was where consecrated priests continually offered incense. Today, it’s the place in my mind from which prayers float upward, offered by a purified conscience. This is meant to be a quiet, reverent space in my being, filled with sweet thoughts of my wonderful Savior. I fear it is otherwise.
Oh, what sacrilege I permit in my thoughts, right next to God’s abode. Instead of a sanctuary, my mind is a party house with every kind of impurity running in and out. I may not act on the demonic banter in my head, but I often entertain temptation before giving it an eviction notice.
I want to clean up my Holy Place for my incredible neighbor’s sake. It’s time to refuse visitors of fantasy, envy, or worry. I must point to the narrow threshold that separates my mind from the home of the Most High God and send those thoughts scurrying.
Prayer: Holy Father, forgive my trash and help me clean up.